Sequoia Coast blue raven

River stilled as Marina spoke of their mother, of seal hunters and illness.

Illness.

He answered the question in her eyes with a faint incline of his head, a hesitant step forward. May I? The witchpriest murmured, and when Marina nodded her assent he stepped close enough to take in the scent of her. She smelled of the sea — tinged with something sour, something he knew as well as the blood in his veins.

Your sickness is not cured, He spoke loud enough for the seal hunter man to hear. Only dormant. It will never be cured. But it will not plague you so much if you learn to avoid what causes it to flare anew. Certain flowers and trees. Glittering mountain dust. I can show your husband... Chakliux.

River's eyes found him then, expectant. Thus far he had not addressed the man — but he could hardly bring his sister to see the very plants which would bring her to sickness again. It would have to be Chakliux.